Scar Tissue
by themiscyra
Summary: Set shortly after 'Ariel', and will run through possibly a bit after 'War Stories'. A strange woman with a mess of old demons, particularly of the Serenity Valley kind, is brought on ship after an incident on a small moon in the Georgia System.
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer:** S'far as I can tell, Cira's the only character that's mine. The people she hates, loves, and lives with are not, and neither is the world she lives in.

**Overview:** As you may have gathered, this is an OFC (Original Female Character) fanfiction. Cira, I can thankfully say, is not a Mary-Sue. She's got a pretty dark past, but it ain't the past that makes a person—it's how they deal with it. Woman's got an eye for self-destruction, a taste for violence, and her previous involvement with the Alliance haunts her; the monkey on her back ain't drugs, alcohol, or even casual sex, but her own gorram guilt.

You'll catch the hang of it after while, I suppose.

Should probably also be up front about the fact that this fic has some deep romantic undertones, though there isn't much 'romance'. That being, there is a development of something that looks, walks, and talks a lot like love. Maybe it is. But there ain't much romance between a guilt-trip on legs and a merc that couldn't give half a shit for regret (but hell, maybe there'll be some sweet moments after I've warmed into this).

Oh yeah, by the way. Rating's for language, if you hadn't gotten that get. Rating's also for adult situations and themes, as well as possible graphic violence. Cursing will probably be dirty in broken English, and a might more comical in Chinese, complete with end-of-chapter translations.

**PS.** First Firefly fanfic (and I'm still giggling over the wondrous alliteration in that). I welcome and encourage constructive criticism. For that matter, I invite just flat out criticism as well. I'm a big girl, I can handle it.


	2. Serenity Valley, The Battle Of

**Chapter One  
Serenity Valley, The Battle Of**

Cira Valdis knows when she's dreaming—at least, she knows it in the back of her mind well enough. There's always that emergency button there, and if she feels her mental fingers along the sides and the walls of her brain (which pulsates and shivers at her rough touch), she can find its case, lift the glass, and press it. It'll eject her immediately out of her dream—or nightmare—something she's taught herself so well that it's been permanently ingrained into her subconscious dream-scenes. After the things she's seen, the things she knows that she's had a hand in (directly and not so directly), this is a self-defense mechanism more than anything else: one of the few ways she hopes she can preserve her sanity, or whatever's left of it.

The dream passes incoherently, and there is nothing upsetting enough to trigger the well-set alarms in her mind; there is space, the Black, and there are ships that run past her, through her, within her. There are people who faces she feels she almost recognizes, but they only reveal themselves in wisps of familiarity, half-truths, and the other side is always framed in that dream-shadow substance, something that sparks like lightning in a wet summer storm, but clamps down tight before you can get any closer.

_Serenity,_ something shifts within her—there is thunder in the distance, but this is so close that it's a whisper, a hiss behind her ears (or where her ears would be if she were whole, not in this incorporeal dream-state). She feels her non-existent heart seize in her non-existent chest, absently pumping some surreal adrenaline through her, and she sees it running through her veins—veins that stretch like vines over the unfolding battlefield.

_Serenity Valley, the Battle of,_ she feels the words rumble from her lips, the sound of gunfire and grenades and wounded men and women. _No, dying men and women._ _Dying, dying, can't keep flying their ships, not here, not at-_

_Serenity Valley, the Battle of._ Of course, it's nonsense. Dream babble. Garbage. Even if she knows that her mind is generating it in this dream, she can't control it, can't stop it. She knows what comes next, and her gut turns—but you can't close your eyes in a dream. When she tries, it only coats everything in that much more fire—like staring at a sun through closed eyelids, with the fleshy red setting everything aflame.

Her non-real throat closes, tightens. _Browncoats fight the Purplebellies, but we all die as purplecoats and brownbellies. We swell and we suffocate and we roll in the goushi of our sickly lives and it consumes us, bloated little discolored bodies that don't make no difference out in Black._

"That's not true." The voice that finds her is so real that Cira thinks that maybe she's waking up, but even then she knows that its there with her, in the dream. It's not _her_ _own_ voice though, and that scares her; she reaches for the escape-button, smooth and red and promising release. What her mind's grasp finds though is even more frightening—it's not gone (this intruder couldn't have the ability to completely tear out something she's incorporated into her subconscious for _years_) but there's a padlock to it. "Some of us are cut to bits first, or burn all up."

_Who are you?_ Cira is lucid-dreaming now, and turns what consciousness she has mustered to look at the invader, this outsider that's somehow managed to sneak inside of her head.

"Not all of us drown," the girl says, and Cira sees her for the first time in years—long years. The sound of the battle dies behind her, choked off in a short whimper: that is not real, not now, though it was once. Instead, the scene changes, like falling, and Cira can feel some ground underneath her feet. Of course, she is still in bed, back on some pathetic little moon colonized by thieves and cutthroats in the Georgia System, only a Mudder's spit worth of Black between it and that crazy bastard Niska's Sky Plex.

_River? River Tam?_ There are stars in front of her, but instead of being a part of them or free among them, Cira is inside of some kind of ship, standing out from the bridge. River is behind her somewhere; she can feel the girl there—powerful as an ocean, like someone poured one into the girl's delicate (misleading) frame.

"Not all of us drown," River repeats, and Cira feels her flesh go cold and hot at once. "You and him, you think very much alike. Did you know that? Perhaps I should tell him someday, though words are limping, crippled things, and I don't think he'd understand."

_Who wouldn't understand?_

"Shh. You'll wake him up, you know." Cira begins to realize that there are other figures in the room. Though she can't see the girl anymore, now that she's on the ship (River must be behind her somewhere), there are shadows—one darker place to her right, and one occupying one of the pilot seats. It's a disturbing thought, that maybe not all of her _is_ back in that miserable, bug-ridden bed, and that maybe if she… what, thinks? dreams? too loud, then those shadows will be able to find her, see her. "You both think it's like drowning. Like being slowly pulled down beneath the surface of things, everything weighing on you the way it does. It's either suffocating you, too much to bear, or you're choking on it."

_Who are you talking about?_

"But at least he has Her." Suddenly, the ground she is standing on seems to shift and vibrate, and Cira fights to maintain her balance. Neither of the shadows appear to notice. It's a ship—of course it is—but it's alive. Not alive in a thinking way, but all the same alive in a feeling and remembering and breathing way.

"Not _it._ Her. Serenity."

_The Battle of,_ Cira thinks quietly, but of course it's impossible to whisper in ones thoughts. She can sense River nod behind her.

"Yes."

_River, I don't understand-_

"No you don't. And I am sorry for that. Listen now." Cira notes that River's sentences are choppier, her words more hasty- "I am not speaking in words. I am speaking in thoughts. It is much easier."

_I didn't know you could read-_

"I have not read your mind. You are just thinking very loudly. Please, you must be quiet, or he'll wake up-"

_Who will wake up, River? How is this happening? Where are you? Are you hurt-in trouble-captured?_

"There can be no more talking now. Be near. Questions then."

_River no, I don't understand what you're-_ But her thought is caught off as the shadow nearest her, the one standing, turns—and for a second it seems that the starlight crosses his face and illuminates it, and it is a profile that she had seen a hundred times before: one that she knows in her spine, one she has kept close to her heart (though certainly not for any romantic reasons). It is the face of an enemy, and even more, the face of a savior, if that isn't too strong of a word—she certainly thinks it's accurate enough. 

"Be near!"

_River!_

_

* * *

_

_Chinese-English Translations._  
Pronunciation refers to how it has been pronounced by the actors on the show.

_goushi_: pronounced 'go-suh', meaning shit or dog excrement.


	3. The Waking World

**Chapter Two  
The Waking World**

"Be near!"

_River!_

This was the last thing that Cira was left with, the command ringing in her ears as she was forcefully ejected from the dream. There was a quick, sinking feeling and Cira could almost swear that she felt herself lie down into her prone body, as if coming back from a trip—she woke up an instantly, covered in sweat and feeling chill. Her chest heaved up and down, gulping for air like a falling person grasping for purchase.

"Hey baby, up for a mornin' rut?" Cira closed her eyes, and fought down the urge to vomit, as well as fought the pounding that felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to the soft meats behind her eyes. _Wouldn't have this problem if you didn't get pissed out of your head every week or so,_ she thought to herself, brutally brought back to reality by the massive hangover and the groping paws of whatever sorry excuse for a man she had taken to bed the night before.

"Get out of my bed. Then get out of my quarters."

"Aw, now that weren't the tune you was singin' last night, no si-"

She had leaned over, and reached under the bed, feeling along the bottom of the mattress. There was a specially crafted clutch that held a small (but ever-so-serviceable) .38 snub-nosed revolver. Sure wasn't intimidating to look at the thing, being a 'snubbie' as it were: had next to no barrel, and could hardly be more than 5 inches long. Sucker packed one mean punch though, and it was nice and easy to conceal.

"I said, get the gorram hell out of my quarters, you stinkin' drift-trash," the woman growled, her strangely pale hair spreading softly across her pillow—with the man beside her trying to play with it like an oaf. She didn't open her eyes when she pointed the gun out at him—specifically because she didn't want to know what piece of goushi she had managed to drag up from the dredges of the 'verse this time. She held it to his gut, hoping he'd not be fool enough to under-estimate how effective the cute little gun was: effective enough to tear six nasty holes in his personal places, surely. Mostly, she hoped he wouldn't cause her a fuss because she didn't feel like cleaning it up.

"You a crazy sonuvabitch _whore_!" Of course, this was followed by some other choice expletives, which Cira largely ignored. The man crawled out of bed so fast that he nearly tripped, and hastily pulled on his clothes. There was the dull, barely noticeable padding sound of something falling out of the man's pocket, but he didn't seem to notice as he slammed the door shut behind him.

_Dropped his wallet,_ Cira thought. Not that she'd pick it up. Stupid hundanprobably didn't have half a platinum to his name, let alone in his cheap synthetic wallet made to look like actual cow leather. And even if he did, she weren't a low-grade whore.

She might have been a lot of things.  
But that weren't one of them.

_--------------------------------_

Malcolm Reynolds spun on his heel, and drew his gun as he turned—he didn't know what he could have been expecting, and he wasn't surprised to find that he was aiming at nothing. There was no one behind him, except for River, who was sitting on the floor where she had been for the past couple of hours.

"What is it?" Wash asked sleepily from his seat. "What the gui do you think you're doing?" He became more serious when he realized that Mal had drawn his gun.

"Nothing… s'nothing." But was it nothing? He slowly holstered his gun. "Coulda swore someone was standing there just a tick ago. Must be fallin' asleep."

"No, not falling asleep. Waking up." River offered gently. "There _was_ someone standing there. She knows you, but you don't know her."

Mal was settling back down now. He had started to drift off for a second, and his tired mind had played tricks on him, thinking about Jayne and Ariel, and on a happier note: all the money they now had to spend. Might as well humor the girl though. "Right, and so how might this Miss know me then?"

"Serenity, the Battle of."

A strong visual change came over the captain, and he reached a hand out to steady himself, gripping the back of Wash's chair. His knees felt weak at once, and he didn't know what it was—of course Serenity was a tetchy subject for him any day, but to hear the girl speak of it like… like she actually _knew_ about it, that was a sight disturbing.

"You all right Cap?"

"Yeah. M'good." Mal watched as River set her head back against the wall she was leaning against, and closed her eyes. The frail thing began to hum, and it seemed to grate against and soothe his nerves at the same time.

"Why don't you go get some rest? We'll be docking at Gianna in a few hours."

"Yeah. Sounds good." Mal left the bridge and headed towards his bunk, and the sound of River's humming followed him all the way there, and into his short, vague dreams.

* * *

_Chinese-English Translations._  
Pronunciation refers to how it has been pronounced by the actors on the show.

_goushi:_ pronounce 'go-suh', meaning shit or dog excrement._  
hundan_: pronounced 'hwoon dahn', meaning bastard or jerk.  
_gui_: pronounced 'guay', meaning hell.


	4. Girl Overboard

**Author's Note:** Appreciate the review very much, Eloisa. You're correct, the switch from present to past tense was meant to signify the end of the dream. I thought that yes, it would make that switch more clear if they had both been housed under one chapter, instead of split as they were, but it seemed like then the first chapter would have been an oddity: a good deal longer, and with more 'breaks' in it than the chapters to follow. At least, that was my reasoning at the time. I figured that it's quite likely that dreams will again come into play in this fanfic, and that would help to make the separation more distinct, as repetition is a pretty good teacher.

And I'll admit that I was a bit wary of making the first chapter too hefty because people might not take the time to read an overly long chapter.

In any case, thank you, and thank's for pointing that out! I'll try to it more clear next time (assuming there is a 'next time'). Hope you continue to enjoy this fanfiction.

* * *

**  
Chapter Three****  
Girl Overboard**

"Right, we get in, load up, and get the hell out." Mal nodded to Jayne, Zoe, and Wash. It was clear that the rest of them were not to be wandering off the ship at any point. "We're sitting hot with all that medicine, and this ain't the place we're selling. We keep our heads down in this system, after what happened with Niska in Paradiso, ironically enough, concerning medical supplies."

"Hey, now that was an entirely different situation-" Simon began to interject, mostly because the idea and plan for stealing the current supply of drugs had been his own creation.

"And don't I know it! No one'll admit faster than me that stealing from immigrants worked like slaves is a far cry from casually lifting a few trinkets from an Alliance hospital." Mal's eyes met with the doctor's, and then turned to the others gathered before him. "Just saying that we want to be low profile right about now, best's we can. This is just a pit stop on the way to some lucrative business—we ain't aiming to start no fusses or call attention to ourselves any more'n we have to." There were assenting nods from the crew.

"Jayne, I want you to see to our weapons and ammo. Wash, get our fuel cells back to a level that resembles something decent. Zoe, I want you to come with me, we're going to secure that everything is nice and set in order for our deal to go down smoothly."

"Ah, c'mon Cap, when does it ever _not_ go smoothly?" Wash asked, giving the captain a quirky grin—but there was a definite cheer underlying the sarcasm. They had finally scored big, at least big enough that they might be getting real food instead of protein mush in a short time.

"Real cute," Mal attempted a straight face, but found himself returning a bit of Wash's smile. "The rest of you, I don't want anyone off the boat. Wash is in charge, and fueling shouldn't require no one to unload."

"Right-o, Captain!" Kaylee chirped, and flounced off, back towards the engine room—there were a few incoherent words about the possibility of strawberries, or even pineapple, and then she was gone.

"Shiney," Wash agreed, an orange-blonde eyebrow arching, as he shared a smile with Zoe. The first mate leaned to him and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek before she and the two other men headed out.

_--------------------------------_

"River, no, no—we have to stay on the ship." Simon was unsuccessful at catching the girl's wrists, as she evaded him with perfect ease. She began to run, only it was a sort of graceful trot, her dress billowing behind her like a sail or a flag. Even if she wasn't sprinting, or even moving that fast, she had a way of staying two steps ahead of him at every turn through the ship.

"No Simon, you have to stay with Serenity. Keep Her company for me?"

"This isn't a game, River-" The girl was unmistakably moving towards the cargo bay exit, and as they turned the next corner he could see that the door was open—Wash was standing close-by, discussing the prices with a working man as the fueling process was nearly finished. Simon had been trying to play a game with River—or rather, was watching her draw and adding in his own input, though she didn't seem to be listening to him at all—whenever she had suddenly stood and said something like, _She's here._ "River, there's no one you have to meet out there."

"You're wrong." The dead clarity of her statement confused him for a moment—usually if she was on the 'unstable' swing in the pendulum of her sanity, she was not so concrete about things.

"Mal said to stay on the ship," It was his last chance, Wash didn't even notice as the girl lightly jogged through the cargo bay.

"A misunderstanding. No one ever _leaves_ Serenity. Do not worry." Wash finally looked up—as River ran past him, in between him and the man he was talking to. Her dark hair lifted out behind her like a banner, and then she was gone through the opening.

"Mei-mei!" Simon shouted, but the girl had disappeared into the crowd outside the ship. "Damn it," he sighed under his breath—this wasn't going to go over well with the captain, he knew that much, especially with what had just happened on Ariel.

"Uhm, doctor? Simon? Did your witch-sister just run off the ship? Tell me she didn't."

"She did."

"Aiya, huaile!"

_--------------------------------_

"You lost your gorram moon-brain sister!" Jayne exclaimed, roughly dropping the supplies he had picked up. They were back at the ship, with the meet time rolling around quickly. "I shoulda just-"

"Hey now Jayne, you wanna share whatever it is your screaming at our nice Doc for?" Mal's voice cut through the larger man, who immediately stood straight, where he had been lowered in Simon's face. The captain was already very sensitive about any situation where Jayne brought up the doctor or his sister, due to recent events and all, and Jayne had no intention of being threatened with getting thrown out the airlock again.

"Oh, I think you'll like it Cap," Wash piped up, coming down from the bridge at their arrival. "Ya know how you like it when things go smoothly? And then you know how they never do? Well-"

"River's gone." Simon cut the other man off, unwilling to deal with his jokes in this very frustrating situation. River had left about 15 minutes beforehand, and the only thing holding Simon back from running right after her was the fact that it would be more efficient to wait until the others came back, for their help. And if he went and got himself lost on this gods-forsaken little moon, then they'd just have twice the trouble.

"Gone?" Mal lowered his head, but kept his eyes trained on Simon, a gesture that was disproving and displeased. It was the look that said, _'If I'm not going to like this, neither are you'_.

"She ran out of the cargo-bay hatch when I was haggling with the fuel-ie," said Wash.

"You didn't go after her?" Zoe asked—unlike Mal, whose countenance was appearing more sour with every passing second, she was much more stoic, matter-of-fact.

"No. She disappeared into the crowd, and I thought it would be best if-"

"Right. We're finding the girl. Wash, you're staying with the ship again. Zoe and Jayne, me and the Doc. Message back to the ship if you find her. Zoe, you two head east to that big bar and the housing area, then head inward. We'll go west to the shopping district, and then come inward. We meet in the middle, hopefully with a seventeen-year-old girl in tow." Jayne bit back a groan, but couldn't fight the sneer of frustration and annoyance. Mal turned specifically to Simon. "You and I are going to have a little chat when we get back, Doct, about what it means to follow orders."

Simon nodded. No way he was going to weasel out of that one; it was better to just suck it up and find River. He would worry about the captain later.

* * *

_Chinese-English Translations._  
Pronunciation refers to how it has been pronounced by the actors on the show.

_aiya huaile_: pronounced 'ai ya, hwai luh', meaning 'shit on my head'.


End file.
